


the power you give the curse

by dumbweeb



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Penelope (2006), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Curses, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Jessica Lewis is not a good mother, Light Angst, Mistaken Identity, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Penelope AU, Romance, first person pov ONLY IN THE FIRST CHAPTER
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-16 17:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13641237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbweeb/pseuds/dumbweeb
Summary: Penelope AU.Darcy Lewis is a young aristocratic heiress, cursed from generations ago because of her great-great-great-grandfather Ralph. Only another blue-blooded society member can break the curse, and only if they can accept Darcy for the way she is.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> i have been wanting to write this for so long! Penelope is my favorite movie (if you have not seen it, do yourself a favor, it's only an hour and 40 minutes and it deserves all the love), and i love darcy so much (and honestly, the taserhawk tag needs more love)! i have not written fanfiction since i was like 12 so this is my first fic for the marvel fandom! hopefully it does not suck lol
> 
> the prologue and a lot of the dialogue is almost directly taken from the movie, but it will diverge!! i am at least semi-original!!!!!
> 
> also clint will not be called clint up until the last chapter(s), a big plot point of penelope, and subsequently this fic, is mistaken identity!!! everyone in this fic thinks that clint barton is tony stark so clint is getting called tony, please keep that in mind while reading lol
> 
> i have no idea how i'm separating this into different chapters and how often i will be able to update (feedback will get u shit faster!!) but i AM MOST DEFINITELY going to finish this bc i am writing this for me lol

My parents were born into the good life. Old money, blue blooded, society sweethearts. Having played host to kings and queens and other powers that be, they were used to gracing the pages of the society columns; so they welcomed the attention on what they supposed would be the happiest day of their lives.

But local legend has it that a curse was put on the Lewis family.

When my great-great-great-grandfather Ralph had a fling with a lowly servant girl…Clara (who was soon eating for two). When he told his family of his plans to marry Clara he realised how silly he'd been. Clara was, after all, just a servant girl.

So Ralph married someone more suitable.

And Clara…fell off a cliff.

That night Clara's mother–the town witch–came to the Lewis estate seeking revenge. She wanted these blue-bloods to feel the pain of rejection that her daughter had felt and commanded that the next Lewis daughter be born with the face of a pig.

And only when one of our own claims this daughter as their own, til death do they part, will the curse be broken.

With the threat of the curse hanging over their heads, the next five Lewis brides lived in terror of being the first to give birth to a daughter. But as luck would have it;   
they gave birth to all sons, 

who had all sons, 

who had all sons, 

who had all sons.

 

Finally, born to Ella and Leonard Lewis, a beautiful baby girl. But what they didn’t know then was that Ella hadn't actually given birth to a Lewis. She had given birth to a Jones. 

Which meant that the first Lewis girl...was me.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a two-for-one update bc the prologue is pretty much ripped right from the movie and is very short! hope you enjoy!!!

“Darcy…Dear, sweet Darcy…”

Ian Boothby is standing in a small room on the second floor of the Lewis mansion, staring right into a two-way mirror. Darcy Lewis--the heiress to the Lewis fortune--is sitting in a plush chair on the other side of the mirror paying more attention to the small novel in her hands than the man talking to her. She makes a small noise to signify that she is listening.

“You see, like you, I've felt imprisoned most of my life,” Ian continues on. He is the son of a wealthy businessman and is very tall, as well as very British.

This gets an actual response out of Darcy, a little sarcastic, “Oh _really?_ ” she turns to look at Ian, both their faces close to the mirror. His face is hopeful as he stares at nothing, while she seems to be staring at an idiot, “By what? Your good looks and good name?”

“Yes! Exactly!” he doesn’t seem to hear the disdain dripping from her voice.

“No one ever seems able to see past that.”

“No one,” he confirms. More sure of himself, Ian continues, “And, Darcy, curse or no curse, if I am more than my name and my face...well, then, surely you are more than yours.”

Ian is not at all subtle, at least to Darcy, in trying to get her to come out of her room so he can actually see her face.

Downstairs, Jessica Lewis, Pepper Potts, and Edwin Jarvis are all sitting at a table in the mansion’s kitchen watching Ian and Darcy interact on a small television.

“I knew it! He's the one,” Jessica exclaims before sipping on some tea.

“He just might be,” Pepper is a little more sceptical than Jessica, but she lets the other woman get excited anyways.  

“Sweet Darcy…” Ian repeats himself, “let me in.  Oh, Darcy, let me in,” he begs and bounces in place, eager to see the young Lewis woman.

As soon as his heels hit the floor, a bookshelf to the right of the two-way mirror swings open and Darcy Lewis walks out to face Ian. A faint “NO!” can be heard coming from who anyone could only assume is Mrs. Jessica Lewis herself.

“Hello.”

Ian’s face morphs into a confused and terrified grimace as he takes a quick step back. He is staring down a _monster._ His arm shoots up, pointing right at Darcy’s face (her _nose_ ). Ian lets out a large breath, unable to form words in the sheer terror he feels at that very moment. And he runs. Right out of the little room, down the winding steps, and slams right into the shoulder of Jarvis. Jessica makes a futile grab at him, but he is a hair too fast for her and Jarvis runs to try to catch him.

As Ian runs out the front door of the Lewis mansion, he shrill-y screams, “SHE’S A PIG!!”  he opens the door to the gate, “SHE’S A KILLER PIG! HELP ME! SOMEBODY, HELP!” Jarvis gallops right after Ian, gaining on him in a pressed suit and bright red tennis shoes.

 

* * *

 

“Why, Darcy? Why?!” Jessica Lewis cried out to her daughter, who was walking on the intermediate landing of the lavishly carpeted staircase.

“ _I_ am not the one who ran, Mom,” Darcy starts to slowly ascend the second set of steps, inching away from the conversation with her mother, and thusly farther away from frustration.

“Of course they run, dear, when you _spring_ yourself at them like that!” Jessica spits out the words, “Do you think I showed your father my mole on our third date? No, dear. I had the good sense to wait until _after_ _we were married_!” She is gesturing wildly with her hands, her face going red with irritation.

Darcy stops.

“I didn’t show him my _mole_ , Mom,” she twirls around at the curve in the bannister, her chestnut curls flying around with her, “I showed him my _face._ ”

Darcy Lewis’s face comes into full view; her skin is creamy and pale, her eyes a vexing blue that are clouded with indignation, and her lips pulled into a frown, plump and red with sticky gloss. The majesty of her face is all pulled together with a startling, but very real pig snout. Darcy gulps down her rage as Jessica starts to sob. This argument is nothing new to either of them and Jessica is always the first to cry, but Darcy just hates watching her mother go through the pain of the rejection she feels for the both of them. With a heavy sigh Darcy makes her way back down the stairs and sits down on a step with her sniveling mother.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jessica starts quietly, “he really liked you,” her voice is somehow gravelly after crying for all but five seconds.

“No, mom, he really didn’t,” Darcy shakes her head. The conversations after the arguments are always the same between the Lewis women.

“No!,” Jessica shouts, “He didn’t like your _nose,_ that’s what he didn’t like,” she quickly shakes her head, her short dark hair following, “You are not your nose!”

Darcy looks down at her lap, she is only just now noticing that the denim of this particular pair of pants is starting to thin at her knees.

“But it...this is my nose--”

“No!” Jessica interrupts. It seems that ‘no’ is her favorite word today, “It's your great-great-great-grandfather's nose on your father's side,” Jessica’s voice is going shaky like she’s going to cry again, “He did this to you, to _us_ ,” she looks up for a second as if to stave off her impending tears, then back to Darcy, “But you are not your nose! You are not you! Y-you-you’re,” she does start crying now and Darcy pulls her mother into her chest, “somebody else inside, just waiting to come out!”

As Darcy rubs her mother’s back, she is once again reminded of how she is not the only “victim” of the curse. No one had suffered more from the curse than Jessica Lewis. Only a few scant weeks after Darcy’s birth, both Franklin and Jessica Lewis has gone to a plastic surgeon. Darcy’s carotid artery runs directly through her nose--her snout, as the surgeon had referred to it--which had made any removal or reconstruction impossible.

Jessica had always meant well for Darcy, and she did what she thought was best to protect her daughter. Like, gouging out the eye of a reporter trying to snap a picture of her pig-nosed baby (even if the loss of the eye was accidental). Or even faking her own baby daughter’s death because of the public’s demand to see the face that had cause so much trouble. And then having her cremated out of the fear that the now eyepatch-wearing reporter would dig up her not-really-dead baby. Jessica even had to protect Darcy from herself, after one eventful afternoon of a young Darcy getting past the front door and up to the gate to say hello to some kids that were playing in front of the Lewis estate.

So Darcy had to occupy her own time and find ways to entertain herself. She had learned French while her mother had spent her every waking moment trying to prepare her to be a suitable bride. And on Darcy’s 18th birthday, Jessica had hired Pepper Potts, matchmaker to the rich and famous. To break the curse, Jessica and Pepper had to find a high-society member, one of her own kind, to accept Darcy as she is, til death do them part.

But Darcy was not as enthusiastic as Jessica and Pepper, and did not like to just sit around. She was a woman of action, damnit (or as much of a woman of action as she could be, as the only time she had ever gone anywhere other than a different room in her house was her trips as a baby to and from the hospital). So Darcy did as any rational woman of action would do in her little “situation”. She weeded out the weak men.

And so, when Darcy showed her snout, the men would go running. And in trying to find the fasted route out, they ran right out and through the second floor windows. Upon their departure, these men were “invited” back to the house, where they were legally gagged into secrecy. And it was just a matter of time before Jessica recognised the need for certain adjustments; shatterproof glass, and sneakers for Jarvis.

So today was much like any other day in the life of the Lewises (plus Jarvis and Pepper). Ian ran out of the house after seeing Darcy’s face just like every other man that she had personally introduced to herself to.

Except, “I couldn’t catch him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me love @ reversesneezes on tumblr! and in the comments please lol


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still no clint!! i swear he'll be in the next chapter lol 
> 
> and i realize that i haven't given many visuals for darcy's parents oh no! i gave them penelope's parents names but i don't really have a person to give visual aid for them whoops 
> 
> this also took forever to write bc of school. which sucks.

Ian Boothby is currently standing in front of an exasperated police officer’s desk, recounting the horrors he saw at the Lewis estate. 

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking. The Lewises! A nice family, right? That’s what I thought too. When Darcy mentioned a curse, I thought it was a figure of speech! She’s a rich girl who never leaves the house, what was I supposed to think! I’m telling you, Darcy Lewis is a fanged pig monster! She attacked me!” Ian was gesticulating wildly towards the officer, her face looked as if she was dealing with a child.

“Mr. Boothby are you trying to tell me that the Lewis’ daughter, who _died_ 22 years ago, is alive with a pig snout and fangs?” she looked half-ready to throw him in holding just to shut him up.  

“And she attacked me! What do you not get?!” There was a chair sitting behind Ian’s legs, as if he had jumped up to report Darcy, “If I had not gotten out of that house, that _monster_ would have eaten me!” 

The officer had finally stood up, somehow looking down on Ian even though she was a few good inches shorter than him. The name HILL was stitched over her right breast and the badge on her opposite shined despite the dismal lighting of the precinct. Officer Hill gestured to the other two officers at their desks to come forward.

“Alright boys, lets put Mr. Boothby in holding for the night to cool down.”

As Ian is forcibly removed from the precinct’s room, he yells about the monstrous pig-nosed Lewis girl and that he’s come to report her, not to be thrown out! While the two officers are struggling to force him out the door, a sly looking man with long, slicked-back hair walks up to Hill.

“Was that a Boothby?”

“Yeah,” she shakes her head, “Ian. That kid’s crazy.”

 

* * *

 

Darcy wakes up to her mother throwing open the curtains to her attic room, the harsh light of the mid-morning sun heats her face.

“Up, up, up! Get up, Darcy!” Jessica is standing at Darcy’s tall chestnut dresser and throwing open the drawers. There is a large suitcase at the foot of Darcy’s bed.

“Mom? What are you doing?” Darcy yawns and wipes the sleep from her eyes. 

Jessica is now throwing various shirts and jeans into the suitcase, overflowing it with absolute chaos, “We are moving, Darcy-baby,” She gives her daughter a soft look before her face hardens and she yells downstairs to her husband, “FRANKLIN!!”

Darcy is quick to her feet and takes three long strides to her mother before grabbing her hands that are still full of errant Darcy-clothes. They stare at each other for a hard second, Jessica’s hazel eyes are firm but full of fear while Darcy’s baby blues are confused. Her eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean we’re moving? What’s going on?”

“Ian saw you Darcy. He saw your great-great-great-grandfather’s nose! And we didn’t have him sign the papers! We have to leave this place before he talks about you to the media!” Jessica is shaking, her voice is heavy with unshed tears.

Before a single tear falls, Franklin comes rushing into Darcy’s room, “Jessica! What’s wrong?!” He stops short when he sees what’s happening.

“Dad? Mom is convinced that we are moving,” Darcy’s voice sounds unstable now too.

“What? Jessica, this house has been in my family for generations. We are not moving. Why do you think we’re leaving?” Franklin takes a tentative step towards his wife and daughter and looks between the two with confusion clouding his Israeli features.

Jessica finally breaks down crying, “We have to leave! Or Darcy will be exposed and we’ll be humiliated by that runty little Boothby! Oh, Franklin!!” she runs into her stunned husband’s arms, sobbing loudly.

“Well...” Franklin starts, looking to Darcy for help.

“We could move to the beach!” Darcy says in hopes of lightening the mood.

“Or France! You could practice your French!” Franklin suggests, nodding sagely along with his daughter.

At that, Jessica seizes up in her husband’s arms, thinking of Darcy walking the streets of Paris, her great-great-great-grandfather’s nose free to bee seen and speaking the native language while Parisians jump out of her path. She pushes herself from Franklin’s embrace to face him and Darcy “Nevermind! I overreacted!” Jessica smiles weakly while her family beams at her and she runs off to speak to Pepper.

 

* * *

 

The elevator of Laufeyson’s Publication Offices dings and a fuming Ian storms out, a newspaper crumpled in his hands.

“Where is Loki Laufeyson!? Huh!?” none of the journalists look up to meet his eyes, but one inadvertently looks to Loki’s office. As Ian stomps towards the office door, Loki leans over his desk to call for security.

“I'm next in line for chairman of the board!” Ian screeches, “Do you have any idea what a story like this will do to me? What my father is going to do to me?” he shakes the paper in the air to put his point across to the man sitting at the desk.

Loki leans back in his chair, “Well, that’s not really my problem, now is it?” he gives a smarmy smirk.

“Okay,” Ian nods, “Okay, I am _not_ a delusional nut, yeah? No,” he leans in, shaking with anger, his voice wavering right along with it, “So either you print a retraction, or, so help me God, I am going to rip your guts out, one GUT at a time!” And with that, it is the second time in a 24-hour period that Ian is dragged away by two much bigger men.

While Ian is screaming about retractions, a man walks by whistling. “I”M TELLING YOU, SHE HAD A PIG FACE, WHY WILL NOBODY BELIEVE ME?!” The man stops and turns around. He is older with an eyepatch over his right eye that makes him look more like a criminal than a journalist.

“Woah-wait, wait, wait!” he interrupts them as they are stepping back into the elevator, “Hold on there, Victor,” he addresses one of the guards, “I believe that man is with me.”

They let Ian go and he steps toward the man with an eyepatch with a little _huh?_

The man smiles grimly at Ian, “My name is Coulson, Mr. Boothby. And I lost my right eye trying to expose the Lewis family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully i can turn out another chapter soon!! i love writing this, bc i love darcy and penelope is one of my all time favorites!!!!
> 
> send me love @ reversesneezes on tumblr! and in the comments too ♥


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy another short chapter! the plot furthers but only barely!!!!!!!!!

The dining room table of the Lewis family is covered in dossiers from Pepper’s agency. In the four years that Pepper has worked for the Jessica Lewis, she has invited nearly a hundred men onto the estate to meet Darcy. Jessica seems to be in even more of a rush to break the curse after the Boothby incident; her eyes frantically scan the documents of eligible bachelors that are laid out.

“These men aren’t exactly the cream of the crop, Jessica,” Pepper has her arms crossed as she stands back and watches her client stare at the multitude of papers and pictures.   

“I don’t care,” Jessica’s voice sounds distant, as if she isn’t paying much attention.

“First, there's Beaux--”

“Great.”

“Jack--”

“Fine.”

“--the Ripper.”

“Super. Who else?”

“You know what? Why don't I just say, _‘Here's 12 men. Trust me.’_?” Pepper gives Jessica a frustrated look that the older woman barely notices.

“Terrific,” Jessica’s monotone response has some semblance of emotion this time, “Let's talk about the dowry. I think we should double it.”

Darcy walks into the room right then with an empty teacup in her hand, “If they can't stand the sight of me now, why would they for _double_?” Her snout gives a little twitch at that and she walks to the door that leads to the kitchen.

“Oh, now, now. With that attitude…” Jessica starts.

“Oh, yeah, it's my _attitude_ , Mom,” Darcy goes to open the heavy green door to the kitchen and glances at her reflection in the ornate mirror hanging on the wall next to her.

Pepper is talking to Jessica about another suitor, but Darcy can barely hear them as she focuses more on her face. She looks earnestly into the mirror before hesitantly bringing her pale right hand up to cover her snout. Her fingers curl around her nose to give the illusion of something normal, and her eyes go a little glassy as she stares at herself.

Jessica looks up to see her daughter covering her snout and her face softens, “Oh, sweetheart.”

Darcy’s hand shoots back down to her side and she gives tiny and insecure smile. She laughs wetly for a second, “I know, I know. It's not my face, it's my great-great-great-grandfather's face, and he's not me and I'm not him and,” her voice shrinks “I'm not me.”

“And don’t you forget it!” Jessica smiles big to Darcy, who is looking back at her through the mirror. Darcy finally makes her way into the kitchen.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It is late and Ian Boothby and Phil Coulson are sitting in Coulson’s old van under a bridge. It is an odd spot that makes Ian nervous, but Coulson said that he could help clear Ian’s name and expose Darcy.

Coulson takes a swig from his thermos, full of something Ian does not know what.

“I gave my right eye for that story,” Coulson repeats this from earlier and points to his eyepatch, “And I got nothing in return. That hideous woman still gives me nightmares,” he takes another swig of whatever is in his thermos.

“I thought you never saw her?” the dim overhead light is the only on on in the van and it makes Ian squirm. His paranoia after his _incident_ with Darcy has skyrocketed.

“No, not Darcy,” Coulson shakes his head, “Her mother. I only caught a glimpse of the baby. I thought my head was playing tricks on me,” another sip is taken. Ian is starting to suspect that it is not cocoa in the thermos.

“Well, thank God someone believes me, anyway.”  
“Unfortunately, my believing you won't to do either one of us any good,” Coulson looks Ian in the eyes, “We're gonna need some proof to clear both our names,” he pauses before he speaks again, “Do you think you can get back in there?”

Ian pales at the thought of going back into that house with the monster that Darcy is.

“Oh-uh. Ah, I don't...I don't know,” Ian stares at his lap, ”I mean, the--” he looks up, right into the rows of fangs and snout of Darcy Lewis, who snarls right outside of the van’s window. Ian lets out a strangled shout but when he blinks, nothing is there. Coulson looks out the window to the spot of nothing outside where Ian was fearfully staring at, and then back to Ian.

“No,” Ian gasps out.

“Are you sure? I just need one pho--”

“I am not going back in there!” Ian emphasizes his point with his arms flailing.

“Okay,” Phil nods once, “We’ll just have to find somebody who can...hook them up with the agency who sent you.”

“They only see old money, blue blood types. It’s all part of the curse,” Ian shakes his head, “I don't think we'll find any blue bloods to help us, it’s not like they need the money.”

“No, but,” Coulson speaks as if he already has a plan, “down-and-out blue bloods do.”

  


* * *

 

 

 

The poker place that Coulson goes to somehow manages to be dusty ad greasy at the same time. The music is loud and is some incomprehensible alternative rock garbage from the 90’s. There is a bouncer in all black at the bottom of the steps when Phil walks in, he is tall and buff with an earpiece and a clipboard, as if he were bouncing for a nightclub and not an underground casino.

Phil walks up to the bouncer, who is even taller up close, “Is there an Anthony Stark playing here tonight?”

The bouncer lifts a disinterested finger in the direction of a far off table, “That’s him, table number seven,” everyone at the table is sitting, except for a blonde man that is putting on his coat to leave and a scruffy brunette who is picking up some felled poker chips.

Phil approaches the blonde man as he starts to walk up the stairs to the outside, “Hey pal, wait up.”

“Do I know you?” getting a better look at Stark, his nose looks as if it has been broken before and his sandy hair could use a trim. His stubble and dark under eyes make it seem as if he has been in the casino for more than one night.

“No, but I know you...did a little research,” Phil takes out a little black notebook, “And it seems that in a few short years, you've gambled away the fortune your family spent generations building,” he says this all with a smirk on his face.

Stark laughs down at Coulson and turns to leave.

“Hey! Hear me out, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Stark turns his head to briefly look at Coulson, “You got the wrong guy,” he starts climbing up the steps again.

“Is five thousand bucks worth your while?”

This makes Tony stop and sigh. He turns to Coulson and asks, “Alright, what do you want?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay clint is here!! even if he's only at the end of the chapter!
> 
> just so you know, if you didn't read that really long not at the beginning of the prologue, clint is mistaken as tony stark and everyone will call him tony. there is a mistaken identity tag for a reason!!!


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just another reminder that outside of clint's pov, others are going to call him tony!! mistaken identity guys!!!!
> 
> this chapter is slightly longer, and it was going to be even more so, but i decided not to *shrug emoji*
> 
> there's a lot of dialogue and we get to read clint's point of view!

The next day, Coulson and Ian are waiting outside the Lewis Estate in the journalist’s van. When Tony Stark finally walks up to them, he is five minutes late and in the same used suit from last night. The back doors of the van swing open when Tony is close, Coulson is holding a newer looking jacket that he immediately shoves into Tony’s hands before he could open his mouth to apologize. 

“Put this on. There is a camera is in the lapel, the rigging is in the sleeve,” Tony slips it on, it is tight on his broad shoulders and long in the arms, “Raise either arm to take her picture.”

There is a faint shutter noise when he raises his arms, “Okay. So that’s it?” 

Coulson nods, “All you have to do is get a picture of Darcy. Now go!”

* * *

  
  


Clint is let into the mansion by a butler that introduces himself as Jarvis. He is led to a slim red-headed woman who looks up from a stack of folders with confusion in her eyes. 

“And you are?” she raises a brow, already judging him for being late. 

“Uh, Tony. Tony Stark,” Clint sweats, “The agency sent me,” his words are award and poorly rehearsed. 

“Stark? Give me one second,” she digs through the stack of folders and hands him a thin, powder blue one, “I’ll need your signature on the last page. It’s a simple gag order; you don’t talk and we won’t talk.” 

Clint was not told that there would be any NDA’s, what’s he supposed to do now? He’s not actually Tony Stark. But before he can actually sign the agreement, Jarvis is leading him up the stairs and into a small room with big double doors. The room is filled with other young bachelors from rich families and on the wall facing him is a large mirror. The men are talking amongst each other, and Clint worries that if he engages with any of them that he will be revealed as a fraud. 

So while he is waiting, for what he doesn’t know, he fiddles with the sleeve with the camera attached to it. He must have done something wrong, because the camera immediately starts clicking and the shutter noise is louder now than when he was outside. Clint falls to the ground and behind the leather couch in his panic and haste to fix the lapel camera, which stops clicking almost as soon as he hits the carpeted floor. Before he gets up, he hears a door open from the other side of couch. 

“Hello!” comes a cheery and distinctly feminine voice, “I’m Darcy, and you all must be…?”

One startled shout follows another before all of the men run out of the room, pushing and shoving each other. One guy even jumps over the couch and barely misses stomping on Clint’s head. When all of the spooked bachelors leave the room, Clint finally gets up. Darcy isn’t even in there. What had freaked them all the hell out?

 

* * *

  
  


Darcy stomps down into the kitchen and immediately heads to the snack cabinet. She hates that all of those men running away terrified of her affects her so much, so she does what any distressed person does and heads straight for the chocolate. She’s gorging herself on Ho Hos and is turning her feelings of inadequacy into anger towards self-absorbed men who would rather throw themselves out of windows instead of getting to know her. The poor Ho Hos do not deserve to be eaten so cruelly. 

Jessica’s cry of “How could you?!” is heard before she is seen. 

“Just speeding things up,” Darcy’s voice is heated, but it is muffled by the Ho Ho that is still in her mouth. 

Jessica makes a disgusted noise at her daughters lack of manners, “Oh and now you’re just going to make a pig of yourself?”

Darcy snorts, “That’s already been done for me,” and then goes to shove the other Ho Ho in her mouth, but Jessica slaps it out of her hand with an indignant  _ Stop it!  _ before it can touch her lips. 

Darcy makes a pained noise, “That was the last of the Ho Hos!” she abruptly stands up, her chair screeching behind her, “Where’s your card? I’m going to the store,” she hurries over to where her mother’s purse is hanging on the coat rack. 

“WHAT?” Jessica runs after her, “Oh nonono,” she grabs onto her purse, wrestling to get it free from her daughter’s grasp, “If you want Ho Hos, send Jarvis to get more!” 

“I’m 22! I can get my own Ho Hos!” Darcy pulls the purse closer to her. 

“If you’re going to the store, pick me up some chocolates, would you?” Pepper interrupts and walks in cooly, setting her remaining folders on the table.      

“Darcy, just one man,” Jessica’s voice is soft but pleading, “all you need is one man!”

“And he'll run, too!,” there are tears in her eyes, “They always run! Why can't you accept that?” Darcy takes a deep breath, “For four whole years, I have had to watch countless men run away from my face!” she shakes her head, willing away her tears, “Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? Do you!?” 

Jessica jumps at her daughter’s shouts, “I'm sorry!” she does not have an ounce of sincerity in her voice, “but we just can't  _ quit _ .”    
  
“We  _ can _ , because no matter how much I want to believe there's one man who won't run away, one man who,” Darcy’s eyes unconsciously glance at the television screen projecting a live feed of the small annex outside of her room. There is still a man in the annex, “who…” Darcy trails off and just stares at the man. He is sitting on the leather couch in a cheap looking suit and his blonde hair looks like it hasn’t seen the better side of a shower in weeks. But. There is a man in the annex. Who hasn’t run away screaming like the rest.     
  
“Sweet loving angel of all things merciful!” Jessica is staring at the TV screen too, with wide eyes. All three women gather around the small box set. 

“Did he see me?” Darcy is royally confused. 

“He must have. He was there.”

Darcy leans over to look at Pepper, “Who is he??” she whispers this, as if he can hear her from the kitchen. 

“WHO CARES!? JUST GO!” the older Lewis is bursting with excitement. 

“Yes, go!” Pepper is still staring at the man on the screen. 

Darcy is hesitant to just run into the room, “But I--”   
  
“JUST GO!” both Pepper and Jessica yell.

 

* * *

  
  


Clint is going through the very expensive looking bookcase that is full of first editions, when the voice from earlier startles him from behind. 

“You’re still here.” 

Clint whips around, shoving one of the books into his borrowed jacket, before he is met with no one, “uhh, yeah?” where did that voice come from? 

“Did you see?” there it was again. It sounded like the person, likely that Darcy girl, was in the room, but it was just him in there. 

“See?” All Clint had seen was the dozens of men running out of the room as if their lives had depended on it.      
  
“You didn't see?”

“I didn't?”    
  
“Did you?” 

“Did I what?”    
  
“Don't mess with me,” this conversation was really confusing him.  

“I'm messing with you?”    
  
“Why are you still here?” 

“Look, I'm sorry…” was Clint missing something? “Should I go?” 

She hums, “Not yet no,” she pauses, “Which bachelor number are you, anyways? I’m Darcy Lewis, if you somehow avoided to learn the name of the girl you are currently paying a matchmaking service to meet.” 

Clint has to bite his tongue to not say his real name, “uhhh, Tony. Tony Stark.”

“Well, Tony Stark, are you a fan of Imani Sayyid?”

Uh, “Who?”   


“She’s the author of the book that you have in your blazer.”

“You caught that, huh? Uh, yeah. Yeah, it’s a great book,” shit, Clint didn’t read books! What is he saying?!

“So...you’ve read it?” she sounded skeptical, great. 

“Of course I have!” Clint just keeps digging himself a bigger hole! What if she asks him to write a dissertation on it to prove that he’s truly eligible for the Lewis heiress?! Then Clint stops himself. He’s just here for a picture, not a wife. 

“That’s funny…” oh god, Clint really messed up, “I was under the impression that that was the only copy of  _ Dreamers  _ in North America.” 

“Well, uh, I have always meant to read it, you know? But the library never had a copy,” Clint has been lying all morning about who he is, and decides to tell at least one truth, even if isn’t a good one, “I, uh, I saw that it was a first edition and figured it might be worth  _ something. _ ” 

“So you were stealing it?” 

“Yup,” he laughs at himself for being so stupid and takes the book out of his jacket, “I was stealing it.” 

“So you like money?” 

“Oh, I'm a big fan of the money. Although, it doesn't much care for me,” Clint shrugs, he’s already had a weird morning, he might as well continue the streak for the rest of the day.     
  
“Well, maybe you and the money just aren't meant to be,” she says matter-of-factly.    
  
“Hey, I wouldn't go that far,” he laughs again. He’s figured out where she is, the huge mirror on the wall has to be a two-way; it’s fixed into the wall on on it.  

There was a  short lull in the conversation and then, “There are 350 first editions in that room. Of those, 300 are worth over 50,000, a dozen of them are worth over 25,000. But I'm sorry to say that there's only one valued under 50 on those shelves.” 

“Only one, huh?” 

“A little novel, written by a nobody who never found success.” 

“You don’t say. Under 50, huh?” 

“I’m afraid so. And I’m afraid that means--” 

Clint cuts her off and holds up the book to the mirror, “But it’s your favorite, nevertheless.”

“What?” she sounds startled. 

“I said, it’s your favorite, nevertheless,” Clint feels a little smug for catching her off-guard. 

“I heard you, I just--” she stops herself, “Top shelf, fourth from the right, Tortilla Flat. It’s a first edition and is signed,” she quickly finishes her dialogue, “But wait until I'm gone, or else they'll see you.”

“See me?” what was with all this seeing stuff? She doesn’t answer him, “Hello? Hello?” 

Clint hears a door shut from where he assumes is behind the mirror and where Darcy was. He goes back to the bookshelf and takes the thick blue book from the top. He calmly walks out, but runs back into the wide doorway, thinking that Darcy leaving was just a test. 

“Gotcha!” but the room is empty, “No?” 

He walks into the room once again, “Darcy?” he walks up to the mirror and taps on its surface, “Darcy?” Clint sighs and gives himself a good, hard look at himself in the mirror. He really needed a shower. And some sleep, if his dark circles had anything to say about it. 

When Clint finally walks away from the mirror and goes to leave the room, Darcy quickly inquires, “Will you be back tomorrow?”

“I knew it!” Clint turns around to address the girl behind the mirror, “I knew you were still there!” he smiles, “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay more clint!!!!!!
> 
> imani sayyid and the book dreamers is totally made up by me! 
> 
> the book darcy tells clint to take, tortilla flats, is by john steinbeck. i found a signed first edition that costs 17,500 and the lowest price i saw was 5,000, that's wild!!. in penelope, she tells johnny to take a first edition of moby dick, an unsigned copy i found costs 65,000! 
> 
> i promise that the story will pick up more soon!!


End file.
